


Holiday Schedules

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: Schedules were never fun, but sometimes they served a purpose.





	Holiday Schedules

**Author's Note:**

> Exchange: smutty_claus 2016  
> To: divagonzo1
> 
> This was a really fun one for me. I loved all your prompts, divagonzo1, and Harry and Ginny jumped right into this. I hope you enjoy it.

“So, how was the party?” asked Harry from the sofa.

“It would have been better with you there,” Ginny grumbled at him. Why did he always have to look so sexy sitting there, arms spread out over the back rest.

“I told you.”

“I know. I know. But she promised. I thought I’d give it a chance.”

“I told you about her schedule. She wanted to run it by me to see if there was anything she could add that would entice me to come,” he said, grinning.

“Again, I know. But she’s been trying so hard. She promised me the ‘schedule’ was just a list of stuff to do if people weren’t having fun.”

Harry snorted at her. “The day Hermione doesn’t actually follow a schedule...”

Ginny sighed, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the sofa, curling into Harry’s side. He wrapped his arm around her, warming her. He always kept his place just a little cooler than she would have liked. Some silly, sciency, action show was on the TV. Muggles might not have magic, but their stories were certainly magical. Watching the mindless entertainment, she enjoyed the warmth of her boyfriend and pondered the evening.

It wasn’t that Hermione’s party was bad, or even boring. It was actually nice. She talked to some of her friends, catching up with those who had moved away. They’d all had some eggnog. And there was plenty of food. But, as much as it pained her to admit, it was just a lackluster get-together. Not much different that the occasional meet-up when some of them met after work, or when someone was in town, or whatever other mildly, not-very-special events happened during the year.

But this was a Christmas party. It was supposed to be rowdy. Raucous. Fun! There was supposed to be enough food to gorge on, and enough drink to drown an Quidditch stadium. And, instead, Hermione was throwing fits because some of the guests weren’t there the minute it started and there wouldn’t be enough people to play the games she wanted. Which would cut into the time set aside to play those games.

She was scheduling fun! Although...

“Harry?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we ought to schedule our fun time?”

After his coughing fit passed, and he was able to release a few chuckles, he responded with a slightly incredulous, “What?!”

“I was just thinking, you know. Hermione seems to have her life together, and she runs everything from her schedules. We’ve not really had much ‘we’ time in the past few weeks. Maybe we should schedule it.”

“Right. I can see that working now: ‘Sorry, Chief Auror Robards, I can’t finish this paperwork tonight. Ginny will be getting home in about fifteen minutes and tonight’s our shagging night.’”

Ginny burst out in laughter. “Unfortunately, that might actually work with Gwenog. ‘Gwen, can I leave practice early? I know our title game is this week, but I told Harry I’d screw him tonight. It’s on our calendar.’”

“So, what about it?” asked Harry.

“What about what?” asked Ginny. “Should we be scheduling our time?”

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of tonight. I mean, we did kind of schedule our time here.”

“No. I scheduled time at Hermione’s. You scheduled time here,” snarked Ginny.

“Actually, I just scheduled time not at Hermione’s. Figured you’d be back sooner or later. Most likely sooner. And here you are!” After Ginny’s snort, he continued to point out, “And, well, we do seem to have our own little tradition on this evening. Gifts. Alone time. Tradition is a schedule, right?”

“Not really. But, sure, let’s go with it. What’s first up on our schedule for this evening?”

“Luckily for you, I went through school with a scheduling genius. I can whip up a schedule in no time!”

Ginny snickered.

“So, first up, we need to talk. Make sure we’re going to be doing the same thing.”

“We just did that,” Ginny pointed out.

“Good! Then we’re early. That gives us more time for step two: we should now be kissing.”

Ginny giggled, but leaned up to Harry. Their lips met and she closed her eyes. Kissing Harry was certainly a wonderful way of letting the memories of the evening drift away. She could, and often did, lose herself in Harry. His kisses were always both hesitant and commanding. Like he was afraid of losing her, yet the strength of years of fighting and leading him on.

She panted for air when his lips left hers, working their way down towards her neck. She was sensitive there and he knew it, as demonstrated by the involuntary gasp she let out when he nipped at the tender skin.

“Is that... ooooh! Is that on, guh, on the schedule?” she managed to get out.

“We had some extra time,” he murmured. “Early and all that.”

His tongue licked at her skin and she moaned aloud. His hands caressed her shoulders, squeezing ever so lightly. And then he pushed her away. When she realized no more contact was forthcoming, she opened her eyes (which she hadn’t even realized she closed) and saw him walking away from her towards the kitchen.

“Wha... What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. The scheduled time was up. It’s now time for the next activity.”

As his words penetrated her haze, she slowly processed what he said.

“Tha... That’s not... Harry James Potter!” She jumped up from the sofa and chased him into the kitchen. Once there, she found him putting rolls of paper and spools of ribbon onto the table. As he turned to start grabbing boxes from the corner, she demanded, “What are you doing?!”

“I told you, the next activity on the schedule.”

“I’d rather finish the last one. You said we had extra time.” Even as the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous it sounded.

“Well, as I said, I was taught by the best, most geniusest scheduler there is. And she would very upset to find that we put all the fun at the beginning. You have to spread it around the actual work, after all. That way we get our work done.”

How he kept a straight face, Ginny would never figure out. But it was now clear he was taking the mickey.

“I see,” she said. She picked up a spool with the last little bit of red ribbon on it and shook it at him. “And I assume once we’re done with gift wrapping, we go back to snogging?”

“Of course not,” he said, rolling out some wrapping paper. “We already did that. Next, we jump straight to feeling up.”

“Straight to...? Oh, yeah, that’s really romantic.” She mimed squeezing her own breasts and said, “Come ‘ere baby. Just grab hold.”

He was placing a box onto the paper as he looked at her. The corner of his mouth twitching so minutely, Ginny figured she was seeing things, just wishing he would react.

“You know,” he said as he started to fold the paper around the box. “One of the things I learned trying to stick to Hermione’s schedules is that even work goes faster when you work together. Working alone just drags it out.”

“Okay, Harry. This is getting just a little absurd,” she said. Harry was definitely taking this a bit far.

“I know! That’s exactly what I said to her!” he agreed. “But, I figure, since we’re wrapping gifts and all that, that little red ribbon would look great on you.”

Ginny looked at the ribbon, several inches of which were loose and flapping off the spool every time she moved her hand. “So, you think I would make a good gift?”

“The best,” said Harry, nodding while simultaneously attempting to tape the paper around the box. The results were rather comical.

Pulling the ribbon off of the spool, which she dropped on the table, she tried to figure out where to tie the approximately twelve inches of ribbon. In a fit of inspiration, she tied it through the two front belt loops on her jeans and into a neat, little bow.

“Okay, Harry, I’m finished wrapping your present – though it was mostly wrapped anyway. What’s next?”

Harry looked up from his failing attempt at wrapping the box. Somehow the corners of the paper met caddy-cross the box, but asymmetrically. The other corners were loose off the edges, one so short it would never cover the side, the other long enough to reach halfway back across the box. It was all Ginny could do to keep from laughing.

Meanwhile, Harry was now scanning up and down her body. His eyes locked onto the bow and he smiled.

“Wonderful. Next on the schedule is the last bit of work: place the presents under the tree. Then we’re done and can move on to the next scheduled task.”

Harry grabbed his box, paper flapping wildly as they walked back into the living room. He jauntily placed the box under the tree. Standing up again, he looked expectantly at Ginny.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Really?”

“Gotta finish the task,” he responded. “Keeping to the schedule is important.”

Grumbling, Ginny knelt down on the soft rug in front of the tree. She stretched out onto her side, her hips cocked up for balance and her head on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the floor.

“Perfect,” said Harry, his tone noticeably different. His voice was how gruff, his eyes dark. “Maybe we could each open a present early...”

“I don’t know, Harry. Is that on the schedule?”

“Bugger the schedule,” he said as he knelt down. He began by unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse and slipping his hands inside, slowly caressing her shoulders as he slid the blouse off.

“Straight to the feeling up, indeed,” whispered Ginny.

Harry pulled her up, onto her knees, and wrapped her into a hug as his mouth attacked hers. He continued his caresses across her lower back, and she loved the commanding feel of his hands against her soft skin. Reaching back, she undid her bra, pulling slightly away from Harry to let it fall off her arms and to the floor. Her movement forced Harry’s hands forward just a little, towards her front.

“Just grab hold, baby,” she whispered.

And he did.

His hands slid up her now naked torso and cupped her breasts. He squeezed them, pinching and pulling lightly at the hastily hardening nubs, drawing a moan from her. Once again, Harry moved to her neck, nipping along her flesh, sending flashes to and from the nipples he was playing with.

Struggling to find something to do with her own hands in their current position, she settled for attacking his shirt. She intended to unbutton it, honestly she did. But as she started, he pinched harder than usual, biting into the tender area where her neck met her shoulder. She drew an involuntary, ragged breath in, and her hands grabbed onto his shirt, reflexively pulling apart, ripping his shirt open, and sending several buttons flying.

“Oh, Merlin, Harry,” she gasped out.

He took a moment to shrug out of his ruined shirt, and then returned to the stroking of her skin. He brushed the back of his fingers down her sides, stroking his thumbs across her hips at the bottom. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled at one end of the bow, a single loop getting smaller and smaller, until, with a tiny tug, it disappeared, and the rest of the ribbon slid from her clothes. Undoing of the button and zipper was accomplished with ease, and he pushed her back onto the soft, fluffy rug once more.

Sensually, yet efficiently, Harry hooked his fingers into her waistband and slid both her jeans and knicker down her legs. Standing, he eyed her naked form hungrily, causing a rush through Ginny, a need for him to return to her even as she wanted him to stare at her more, to want her as desperately as she wanted him right at that moment. She got both of her wishes when he took another moment to remove his own trousers and boxers, his eyes never leaving her body.

Dropping back down to his knees, he reached out for her naked body, and then was on top of her, moulding himself to her, kissing her desperately. She could feel his erection pressing into her leg, rubbing against it, the tip nudging and dipping involuntarily at her entrance.

“Harry,” she gasped. “Please!”

Sliding his hands under her arms, under her shoulders, between her burning skin and the rug, he hunched his hips and speared forward, driving directly into her.

She was filled completely in an instant. In that single moment, she remember how perfectly they fit each other. Perfect pleasure. Perfect love. She loved Harry with everything she had.

And then the moment was gone when Harry began moving. Love merged with lust as he slid in and out of her, stroking her from the inside in every possible, perfect, pleasurable way. Waves upon waves of bliss spread out from their joining, suffusing her completely, as she lost herself in Harry and their coupling.

Sharp, sudden strikes joined those waves as Harry sped up, his hips slapping and smacking against hers, driving her into the rug that cushioned the unforgiving floor. She was pretty sure she was screaming, and it was possible he was as well. But it didn’t matter. All she cared about was the pleasure. The perfect satisfaction that came from sharing herself with Harry as he drove himself in and out of her.

She opened her eyes, once again unsure of when they closed, and met the stormy emeralds staring straight back at her. The physical connection they shared paled in comparison to the intimate empathy that snapped into place. Green turned to black, turned to white, and everything exploded together as she screamed out. Inside, she felt him expand, and pulse, and pound.

A chill across her skin caused Ginny to wake up. Harry was pressed against her side, a raging heat source where they touched, but leaving her starting to shiver against the cool, apartment air.

“Harry,” she whispered. “I’m chilly.”

“Open your present,” he mumbled.

She tried to reach for it, but realized quickly that Harry was wrapped around her. “Can’t move,” she said.

Disentangling from her, Harry grabbed the box from under the tree, the bizarre, angular, toroid of paper sitting on the floor, mocking the box it was supposed to be covering. Flipping it over, a fluffy, fleece blanket fell out onto Ginny. Harry chucked the box carelessly towards the wall.

“You keep complaining my place is too cold and I don’t have enough blankets,” he said.

Despite the intimate of intimates they had just shared, this seemed all the more personal and special. Harry covered them, and together, re-entwined, they drifted off to sleep on the fluffy rug under the Christmas tree.

Her last thought, before the sandman took her, was that she would definitely have to put this on her yearly schedule.


End file.
